


in this kingdom by the sea

by apeirophobia



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Child Death, Fantastic Beasts Kink Meme, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:01:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8771002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apeirophobia/pseuds/apeirophobia
Summary: Prompt: [Gen or Newt/Credence] I would love something wherein Credence 'meets' the other Obscurus Newt has in his possession and it turns out he can communicate with it/he befriends it somehow.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy! :] Especially the OP! <3

Obscuruses don’t make _sound_ exactly. They’re completely silent, incapable of creating sound, incapable of creating…anything really, let alone auditory vibrations. They are destruction and self-loathing given corporeal form, a ghost of repressed emotion, and they move almost imperceptible to the human eye—to the No-Maj eye—shadows at the corner of your vision, like a black that’s darker than night, only noticeable for what it lacks. 

 

Credence can feel that lack, that emptiness, before he ever steps foot in the faux winterland of Newt’s habitat. He can feel it calling to him; that space where joy and magic and light should be, but isn’t. Obscuri are negative space; a black hole of swirling misery; immense power wrapped tightly around the core of a heartbroken child.

 

But this Obscurus has no child, not any longer, and it calls out to Credence like a neglected pet who’s lost its playmate. He can feel sadness generated from loneliness that stands separate from the misery that created it—this is distinct: an emotion that emits from the thing itself, not an echoing remnant from the phantom’s previous host. The Obscurus has a clear feeling of  _want_. Want for a friend, want for a response. Want for anything other than the abandonment it's felt since it was torn from the only friend it's ever known.

 

Credence stands still in the false snow of Newt’s magical habitat and holds out his hand, letting tendrils of a shadow wrap around his fingers. It’s the softest ‘hello’ from one monster to another, and Newt watches from the doorway as darkness creeps up Credence’s arm, brushing against the boy's cheek in an awkward attempt at a kiss. He is a stranger to this ghost and yet familiar. The Obscurus knows that he is not it’s true host and yet—and yet—there’s an ironic harmony there; a kindred soul that’s been bent in a familiar way. Credence smiles as the feeling of devastated loneliness subsides in the obscurus, giving way to a muted version of contentment. Obscuruses can not feel happiness--it's contradictory to their very nature--but they can feel companionship. In fact, a child's need for companionship--and a child's lack their of--is vital to an Obscurus' creation.

 

It always warms Newt's heart to observe the rituals and behaviors of endangered creatures; to be privy to the crippled social machinations of two so damaged but such beautiful creations. An Obscurial past the age of ten, and an Obscurus without its child--both abominations in their own right--meeting in the quiet of this snowy habitat. It's a picture that no one else will ever get to see. Newt watches as black smoke in the shape of fingers dance against the back of Credence’s own paler ones, and he thinks, this is why he risked everything to bring the Obscurus to America. Not the contain it. Not even truly to study it. To _understand_. To know why--in her final moments--the little Sudanese girl looked so sad. Here, watching Credence and the girl's Obscurus interact like old friends, he understands.

 

“It says it misses her,” Credence says, never taking his eyes off the dark entity as it swirls softly about his head. His voice grows softer, “It says that it loved her.”

 

The dark mass swirls more enthusiastically around Credence, as if in agreeance, and he throws his head back, closing his eyes. Newt feels like he's alone in the room, Credence and the wounded Obscurus having a silent conversation all their own ( Newt speaks many languages, but Obscurus is not one of them).

 

Newt thinks of the girl's last words, " _ngan sobat_ ", and thinks of how he thought she'd meant _him_. It'd hurt when he lost her--hurt far more than Newt had thought it would. It'd hurt to lose his first friend, when Jacob had walked into the rain. Newt can’t imagine what it’s like to lose your Obscurial. It must be unbearable. All creatures are capable of feeling fear, of feeling pain. Just because Obscuri are fueled by suffering doesn't mean they're immune to it themselves.

 

“She feels like sunshine, and… _there_ ,” Credence says, reaching his hand forward for something Newt can't see, "She's here," Credence says, his hands curled protectively around whatever he found at the center of the damaged Obscurus. When Credence turns to smile at Newt, his eyes are pure white.

 

She had a smile, Newt remembers (Newt will never forget). And sometimes her smile came out and this entity went away (but it never truly went away) and now Credence--holding her heart in his hands--can feel what she felt; every moment, for every one of her three thousand days. He can feel the sun that kissed her face, before they locked her away. He can taste the strawberries she had for breakfast on her last day of freedom (on her last day of hope). He can feel the fire—the well-meaning fire of a dozen experimental spells—can feel the flames that killed her.

 

He can feel her _heart_ , her beautiful broken heart, still at the center of this abandoned monster but never _still_ , still beating a frightened staccato beneath Credence’s palm. He wraps his hands around her heart, as tendrils of her Obscurus wrap themselves tighter around him, and whispers _shhh_. He tells the other Obscurus, tells the little girl that’s only an echo of a soul mostly departed, tells her that’s going to be okay. The heartbeat slows just a fraction and Credence feels tears in his eyes. He wants to give her peace and yet--and yet he fears that overwhelming unrest is the only thing keeping her here, keeping her lashing out. One shadow-finger wipes a tear from his eye and he laughs. Laughs at the sweet absurdity of being comforted by a child half a world away that’s been dead for four months.

 

Newt holds his breath as Credence is enveloped by the shadows that had laid so docile for months in Newt's menagerie. Instead of consuming the boy--turning him into that unstoppable force he and Tina witnessed in the subway tunnel--it passes over him, like water on rocks. Try as it might, try as it _does_ , the Obscurus can not merge with Credence's body.

 

Credence sighs. He can feel it, speak to it, but he can't save it. The Obscurus is weakening; its hold on Credence is still strong, its grip so tight that he can barely see the false sunlight of the arctic world, but he _knows_.  It feels like a friend...it feels like a friend he’s already lost. He closes his fingers over the small fluttering heart. He wants to keep it beating, but he knows he can't.

 

“It’s dying,” Credence says, sadness tinged with surprise in his voice.  It's dying. The little girl who never got a chance to properly live will fully be gone. Credence will be truly alone.

 

"Credence?" Newt says, concerned. The darkness parts suddenly--as if in response to Newt's query--and Newt can see Credence silhouette kneeling in the snow, head bowed.

 

"It's okay," Credence says, without raising his head, "It's going to be okay," he whispers to his clasped hands, even as he feels her pulse begin to slow.

 

Newt puts his hand on Credence's shoulder, startling him in his reverie. Credence looks up at the older man, his eyes a familiar-not-familiar shade of green that last shined under the Sudan sun. Newt almost doesn't recognize it with light behind them.

 

"Ngan sobat," Credence murmurs, like a secret hidden in the snow. This time Newt knows it's not for him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D Please leave kudos/comments if you liked it! <3
> 
> *translation* 'ngan sobat' means 'only friend' in Sudanese


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